The Lioness & The Snake Charmer
by sostaystrong
Summary: Upon entering year 6, Hermione deals with the repercussions of her summer fling with a fellow Gryffindor student. As rumours begin to fly regarding the details of her supposed love affair, a certain Slytherin boy becomes interested in unearthing the intimate agedy strikes, the two are forced to rely on one another as they fall out of their realities & are brought together
1. Disclosure

**Author's Note:** During HBP. Mature themes and content, explicit language, all that fun stuff.

A lot of Hermione vs. Ron fighting in the first few chapters, but after that, it should get better and start sailing smoothly (at least with them).

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, settings and themes belong to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

 **"I must admit, I can't explain,**

 **Any of these thoughts racing through my brain."**

 **Howlin' For You - The Black Keys**

* * *

Romance was so sensationalized in the Muggle world. There were novels and poetry and films, all based around this breathtaking, colourful journey that started with a kiss and ended in pastry-shaped white gowns and curly-haired toddlers and a house in the suburbia. Nothing was ever confusing nor difficult. Love was simple. Love was sane. Love was solid.

Hermione Granger once believed that she was in love. But oh, God, she was not. She was not, she was not, she was not.

From the moment that Hermione arrived at Hogwarts, late on the evening of September 1st, she knew that she had made a huge mistake. For the first time in the six years she had taken the Hogwarts Express, she didn't sit in her usual compartment with her friends. How could she, when she couldn't even think about Ron Weasley without her skin turning an embarrassing shade of red? By sacrificing most of her dignity and going against her better judgment – probably a result of the blistering heat of the sun that summer – she had potentially ruined everything.

Bugger.

"Hermione!" Luna Lovegood exclaimed as she made her way down the corridor, to the Great Hall. The pixie-like blonde jumped at Hermione, wrapping her long thin arms around the dark-haired girl's neck. "I just _love_ the Start-of-Term Feast, don't you?"

"Hello Luna. It's great, yeah," Hermione responded, absently. Her gaze was fixed on the entrance of the Great Hall, anxiety rippling through her veins as she forced herself to come to terms with the fact that in a few moments, she would have to face Ron.

"Is everything alright?" Luna asked, a worried expression clouding over her usually brightened face.

"Oh, yes, of course, Luna! I'm just a little bit tired from the travelling, that's all. But I'm sure that all will be well once I've had something to eat," Hermione lied, forcing a smile. She linked arms with the blonde and the two headed towards the Great Hall together. It felt slightly comforting to Hermione to enter with Luna, as if she weren't really alone after all.

Once the two walked through the wide open doors to the Great Hall, it seemed like all conversations came to an abrupt halt. Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. No, she had seen this film before. This was the scene where everyone knew _exactly_ what she'd done and they were judging her for it. Hermione forced a couple deep breaths and came to the realization that the whole room had not silenced at her arrival; only the Gryffindor table had.

Utterly humiliated, Hermione separated herself from Luna and ducked her head, allowing a few caramel-brown strands of hair to fall into her face. Awkwardly, she sat down between Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom – instead of her usual seat beside Ron, who was absent from the scene – and she smiled briefly at the two as a form of 'hello'. She stared awkwardly at her empty dishes and she could feel her friends' eyes burning into the top of her head.

"Hermione, how are you?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione's eyes flickered upwards, meeting the sad ones of her best friend. "Yeah, you know, I'm alright. How about you? How's life treating you?"

"Life has been treating me well, thanks. I haven't heard from you in awhile," Harry noted gently. Hermione's eyes welled up and she laughed involuntarily.

"Ah, but you have heard about me." Harry stared at her, stunned that she had actually said what they had all been thinking, but he didn't respond. Silence fell upon the table like a thick blanket, isolating Hermione from the others.

"I heard that they went _all the way_ ," Hermione heard someone further down the table whisper.

"By 'all the way' do you mean…?" their friend asked.

"Yup, I heard that Princess Prissy actually had sex with Ron Weasley. It's such a shocking new development."

Hermione's muscles tensed and she pretended not to hear their comments, but it was hard to tune them out when the biggest news was the promiscuity of Gryffindor's reigning Book Queen. Not that the rumours were entirely true anyway – they hadn't gone so far as having sex – but the fact that people were talking was what bothered Hermione the most.

"Excuse me?" a voice from behind Hermione's back piped up. Startled, Hermione turned around to see a young blond-haired boy in a Hufflepuff uniform looking down at her eagerly. "Are you Hermione Granger?"

"Yes…?" Hermione responded, raising an eyebrow. The boy shifted back and forth on his feet, shoving his small hands into the pockets of his trousers. He leaned down towards her ear and cleared his throat lightly.

"Is it true that you wear black, lacy knickers beneath your robes?" the kid whispered. Hermione sat up straight, her eyes widening.

"Who the hell wants to know?" she snapped, looking around to see if anyone had overheard what he had said. The boy shrugged.

"Some sixth year, like you, I reckon."

"Well you can tell whoever put you up to this that if they want the answer, they can simply ask me themselves," she retorted, her face flaming up in humiliation. The boy nodded and ran off towards the furthest table in the room, the Slytherin table. Hermione watched with curiosity as he walked around the table, passing by several unknowing students before stopping in front of one male student.

Craning her neck, Hermione tried to see past everyone in the room to whom the boy had stopped to speak to. One person stood up, creating an unobstructed view of the Slytherin table. At once, Hermione's heart stopped as she realized what she was seeing.

The boy stood beside Draco Malfoy, whispering in his ear as Draco stared at Hermione with a devilish gleam in his eyes. Draco nodded, to indicate he understood whatever it was that the boy was saying, and then he handed the boy a few Galleons. The boy happily pocketed his money and trotted off, leaving Draco behind.

Hermione was bewildered. Positively bemused and most certainly horrified. A dozen questions began floating throughout her mind at a lightning speed. Had Ron been sharing the secrets of their intimacy to the students, particularly her choice in undergarment? How had the news travelled so far as the Slytherin house? And, most perplexing of all, why did Malfoy, of all people, wish to have the rumours confirmed?

Suddenly, Hermione felt ill. She pushed away from the table, standing up with shaky knees as her housemates stared up at her with worry in their eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Ginny asked, speaking the first words to Hermione since they'd arrived at the school. Silently, Hermione shook her head and made her way towards the exit, taking long strides to speed up. The quicker she was out of the snake pit, the better. As she made her way towards the door, she noticed Draco's eyes watching her, amusedly. Trying to ignore him, she squeezed her eyes shut, walking face first into a wall of flesh.

"Oh!" she sputtered out, her eyes popping open to see Ron in front of her. _Bloody hell,_ she thought to herself.

"Hi," he breathed. "It's been awhile."

"Ron, I can't speak to you right now."

"Please, I just want to talk about –"

"There's really nothing to say –"

"Oh, but I think there is –"

" – I mean, all of this is just so crazy –"

"Hermione –"

"It never happened, Ron!" Hermione finally snapped, causing the room to quiet down, anticipating a fight between the two. She breathed heavily, playing with the hem of her shirt nervously. She looked him right in the eye and whispered. "I don't want to discuss this right now." Or ever, for that matter, she wanted to add. But she left it at that, and raced out of the room.

If this was what the romantics of average Muggle teenagers were like, she was glad she'd escaped that world. If she could escape it soon, in the Wizarding world, maybe she'd get a wink of sleep this term.


	2. Revive

**"As you turn to your mind and youth thoughts they rewind,**

 **To old happenings and things that are done**

 **You can't find what's past make that happiness last**

 **Seeing from those eyes what you've become"**

 **Haunt - Bastille**

* * *

"Ron, is it alright if I spoke to you privately for a moment?" Hermione asked her friend the following morning at breakfast. He turned his head upwards from his plate, appearing sickly and pale, and finally, he stood up.

"Yes, er, of course," Ron responded. Hermione quietly bid good morning to her friends, all of whom were watching the two, curiously and cautiously. After a few moments of awkward tension, Hermione led Ron out of the Great Hall and down an empty corridor, careful not to meet the eye of any other student.

Once they were certainly out of earshot of anyone else, Hermione stopped walking and leaned up against a cold, stonewall. "Ron, I'd like to apologize for last night. My behavior was completely uncalled for. It was just such a terrible experience, walking into that room, knowing that everyone was staring at me. Knowing that everyone knows details about what I've done this summer," Hermione rambled on quietly.

"I know, Mione. I know it's hard to deal with. Unfortunately, it's just one thing we're going to have to get past in order for this to work. In order to make _us_ work," Ron responded, stepping up towards her. He cupped her face in his hands, and leaned his face towards hers.

"Ron, I –" she began to say. Suddenly, her words were interrupted as his lips pressed against hers, furiously kissing her. She placed her palms against his chest and firmly shoved him away. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What did it look like I was doing?" Ron snapped, trying to pull her back in.

"For God's sake, Ron, can you please just stop?" Hermione tried to step away, shaking her head in frustration. "I have no idea where this is coming from, but I just want you to stop."

Ron laughed, as if she were joking. "You know, you weren't asking me to stop the last time that I saw you."

And then, he was kissing her once again. It was wrong. It felt like she was being suffocated and she briefly considered biting down on his tongue. But she didn't. She just let him kiss her – more like attack her with his mouth at this point – as she prayed that he would soon realize she wasn't making any attempt to kiss him back. After awhile, she began to try to squirm away, only to have him tighten his grip on her.

"Well, well, I would say 'get a room' but it seems you two have already found a whole corridor for your own use," a familiar voice asked, their voice booming throughout the corridor. Ron and Hermione pulled away at the sound of the inquiry and they turned to see Draco Malfoy.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Ron snorted at the blonde-haired boy. But Malfoy didn't seem to notice. His reaction was focused entirely on Hermione.

"Now, what's wrong with you, Granger?" Malfoy asked, eyeing her carefully. Hermione shook her head slowly, edging away from Ron. Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows together, mouthing to Hermione, "Are you alright?" Again, Hermione shook her head.

"Didn't you hear me, Malfoy? I told you to _fuck off_. Who said you could come round and stick your filthy nose in mine and my girlfriend's business?" Ron shouted at him, growing more aggressive with every word.

"Girlfriend?" Draco repeated, raising an eyebrow amusedly.

"Wait, I'm not your girlfriend," Hermione said quietly, with wide eyes. Ron whipped his head around, facing her straight on, with a wild expression in his eyes.

"What the fuck are you on about?"

A sob rose in Hermione's chest. "I said, I'm not your girlfriend. We both agreed that it was just a one-time thing. Ron, we… we only kissed."

Ron shook his head, laughing spitefully. "You're a fucking tease, Hermione. This is fucking unbelievable. I mean, I've pinned you as a lot of things. A know-it-all. A bit awkward looking. A catastrophic bitch. But a whore? Now, you really have surprised me after all."

Despite her attempts of hiding her hurt, a sob emerged from Hermione's lips. "Fuck you." The curse word scorched her throat on the way up, and sliced against her tongue as she spat at it one of her closest friends.

"Didn't Mummy ever teach you not to treat women like that, Weasel?" Malfoy sneered. "Must I tell you the exact definition of the word 'respect'?"

"Oh, yes, because you have always been such a decent human being," Ron retorted.

"Come on, Weasley. Even a Mudblood deserves to be treated better than that, you know that."

"Since when have you started defending her?" Ron yelled, lunging at Malfoy.

"Granger, get out of here," Malfoy ordered. Hermione's legs remained still, as though she were frozen in her place, simply watching this scene play out before her. Malfoy turned to face her, removing his wand from his robes. "Hermione, now!"

Without thinking, Hermione raced down the corridors, trying to tune out the sound of Ron shouting from behind her. She ran as fast as her legs would take her, her feet slamming against the ground, thumping along with each step. At first, she didn't even notice Neville Longbottom standing at the far end of the corridor until she ran face first into him. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, that's okay… Hermione, are you alright? Why are you crying?" Neville asked, his eyes widened at the brown-haired girl.

"It's Ron," she cried out. "He's gone absolutely mental!"

Neville's eyes drifted away from her and down the corridor, where echoes of shouts were coming from. "Come on, let's go get help."

Within five minutes, they were hurrying back to the scene, alongside Professor McGonagall. Upon their arrival, it became clear that matters had become far worst. The two boys were on the ground; Ron atop Malfoy, with hands around the blond's neck.

"Oh, Merlin! Mr. Weasley, I must ask you to remove yourself from Mr. Malfoy this instance!" McGonagall shouted. Ron didn't budge.

"I can't – I can't breathe!" Malfoy choked out. Hermione could feel tears forming at her eyes and then rolling down her cheeks. Ron tightened his grip around the boy's neck, and Malfoy gasped aloud, his eyes flickered closed.

"Draco!" Hermione shrieked. Ron snapped his head in her direction, his eyes wide and glazed over.

Suddenly, everything was happening extraordinary slow. McGonagall raised her wand, shouting out a spell unfamiliar to Hermione, and a lavender light shot from the tip of the wand, propelling at Ron. Malfoy flailed his arms, desperately trying to free himself from Ron's grasp. As Ron was hit, he froze completely and toppled over, his body smacking against the ground with a thud. Hermione's vision blurred and then, all at once, everything went black.

vvv

"Hermione, please. I'm begging you. Just open your eyes." Hermione's senses came alive, sluggishly, like an old car that had not been turned on for a few months. Though her eyes had not opened, she became alarmingly aware of some of her surroundings. She could hear the sounds of muffled sobs, footsteps squeaking against the floor, someone clearing their throat. For a moment, she was trapped in a purgatory of consciousness, wanting so badly to tear herself from her skin.

"Miss Weasley, you must understand that she has gone through a great ordeal. You must allow Miss Granger to rest uninterruptedly," the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall said reassuringly.

"She will wake up though, right? It won't be like this forever – it can't be," Ginny Weasley sobbed in response. Suddenly, Hermione mustered a groan, her eyelids peeling open as blurry figures scurried towards her.

Her sight sharpened and she realized at once where she was. The Hospital Wing, with it's large glass windows and high ceilings, was arguably the coldest wing of the school, making it difficult to be confused in your setting. The white-sheeted beds were perfectly lined up against the perimeter of the room, with fabric dividers between each bed for privacy. Hermione lay still on one of the beds, with McGonagall at the foot while Ginny sat on a chair right next to her body.

"Oh, Hermione! I am so relieved you're awake," Ginny cried, her bottom lip quivering as she leaned towards her best friend. "I was so frightened."

"What happened to me?" Hermione croaked, looking around the empty room.

"Miss Granger, yesterday morning, you suffered from high-blood pressure that caused you to faint very suddenly. During your fall, you knocked your head off of a bench and fell unconscious," McGonagall explained, clearing her throat and placing her hands on her stomach. "You will be bedridden here for the next week and half, to ensure you recover properly. Your professors have been notified and will assist you in making up your studies once you return to class."

"High-blood pressure? How… Now, that can't be possible. I don't have problems with my blood pressure," Hermione protested.

"High stress levels are known to cause high blood pressure and, in your case, that is what caused to you to faint," McGonagall responded. Hermione stared back at her with furrowed eyebrows.

Ginny gingerly touched the brunette's hand. "Hermione, sweetie, do you remember what happened yesterday morning?"

Hermione looked down at her lap and tried to remember the previous morning. She recalled waking up with a knot in her stomach and the aching desire to stay in bed, avoiding going to class. She mentally retraced her steps through her morning routine, then down the stairs and all the way to the Great Hall. She remembered seeing Ron and then… Everything after her brief conversation with Ron in the Great Hall had somehow disappeared from her mind. She vaguely recalled desperate shouting and the flickering hue of purple in the space surrounding her. She looked at McGonagall and Ginny, who were watching her eagerly, and she shook her head.

"Oh, dear. Temporary amnesia is common with post-traumatic shock," McGonagall muttered to Ginny. Hermione was becoming worried. The older woman looked back to Hermione and began. "Miss Granger, yesterday morning Mr. Weasley consumed a potion – which we believe he purchased at his brother's joke shop – that is said to make one more confident, more brave in tough situations. Unfortunately, the potion has side effects, which include, but are not limited to, irritability, aggressiveness and violence. It causes whoever takes the potion to become temporarily mad. He lashed out on you verbally, and then Mr. Malfoy physically. Professor Slughorn concocted him an anti-potion yesterday afternoon and Ron has fully recovered –"

"What about Malfoy? Is he alright?" Hermione interrupted. A look of surprise flashed through McGonagall's eyes for a moment, and Hermione's stomach churned nervously. Suddenly, there were footsteps coming from the entrance of the wing.

"Sorry it took so long, she's just got so many bloody books. Alright, why's everyone look like they've just seen a ghost?" Malfoy asked as he walked towards Hermione's bed. McGonagall nodded in Hermione's direction and he turned, his eyes widening as he saw Hermione awake. "Oh, hi."

"Hi," Hermione whispered. She glanced down at Malfoy's hands and noticed he was holding in his hands a few familiar books. "Are those my books?"

Malfoy looked down at his hands and shrugged. "Yes, actually. Er, I thought you might want something to read while you're trapped in this prison – I mean, hospital wing." As Malfoy set the books down on the bed, Ginny glared at him furiously.

"I was the one who suggested it, you bloody liar," she pointed out.

Malfoy stared at her, as if trying to silence her with a stare. "Shut the fuck up, Ginger."

"I'll ask you only once more to mind your language, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall warned. Malfoy rolled his eyes in response.

"Well, um, thank you. Very much. You happened to have picked a few of my favourites," Hermione said, struggling to sit up. Once her head had stopped spinning, she picked up the pile of books, flipping through the covers. A smile grew on her face as she realized that her copy of 'The Journals of Sylvia Plath' had made the cut. "My God, I love this book. I must admit, I'm surprised you even touched a Muggle book."

Malfoy shrugged. "It was close to the top of the pile and it's in shit condition, so I figured you must like it. Don't get too excited though; I used the hem of my shirt to pick it up."

Hermione almost laughed at his comment and then stopped herself. This was all too suspicious to her. Not once in all of the five past years they'd spent at Hogwarts had Draco Malfoy ever shown one ounce of decency towards Hermione, or anyone else for that matter. There was a catch, there had to be.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall cut in, putting an end to their bizarre conversation. "I would like to make it clear to you now that although you might feel physically well currently, you are in a very shaken state. It just has yet to settle in quite yet, since you have forgotten most of what happened. But once it hits you, you will be unstable once more."

"I understand, professor."

"Good. Now, some ground rules. You will not be permitted to leave this wing. Your meals will be brought to your bed and you are by no means allowed to work on any course work. Books, however, are permitted. To ensure you will be following these rules, Professor Dumbledore and I have agreed to assign a student to watch over you daily," Professor McGonagall explained to her student.

"I would be happy to stay with Hermione," Ginny offered, suddenly speaking up.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Weasley," McGonagall said, shaking her head. She turned her head towards the blond boy beside her. "Mr. Malfoy, you will be watching Miss Granger in shifts –"

"Wait, what?" Hermione gasped.

"Er, yeah, no. You're off your bloody rocker if you think I'll be sitting here watching _her_ for undisclosed hours a day," Draco snorted, proving to Hermione that his kind demeanor had only been temporary.

"I won't be discussing this any further. Mr. Malfoy is the right choice for the job. He's academically inclined and will not suffer from missing some of his studies. You two will simply have to learn to get along with each other," McGonagall said. "Now, dinner. We'll be on our way. Miss Granger needs her rest."

Ginny kissed her friend on the top of her head and Malfoy stormed off without so much as a 'goodbye'.

Hermione lay in her bed, alone in the hospital wing, as she tried to process everything that had happened – from waking up in that bed to discovering Ron's attack to learning about her new supervisor. The details of the previous morning were completely erased from her mind, like waking up from a dream. However nauseous the thought of seeing Ron made her, she found herself disappointed at his absence. Not even Harry had shown up. She'd woken up to Ginny, her professor and, worst of all, Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Sorry, this is such a lengthy post, oops. But I felt like the last chapter was lacking something (still not entirely sure what just yet!) and I tried my best to kick it up a notch this time around. Hope you all enjoy it!


	3. Limerence

**"There are sirens screaming out behind my eyes,**

 **I hide 'em away 'cause I'm ashamed,**

 **Or maybe I'm just too shy to just speak up,**

 **Or I'm afraid of what you might say."**

 **War - Kodaline**

* * *

The longer Draco sat in the Great Hall, the more furious he became. Already, within only twenty minutes of being seated for supper, he had resorted to jabbing his fork into the wooden table that the Slytherin students were gathered around. His patience was wearing thin as he spent the majority of the night glaring across the room at Harry Potter and his motley crew as they laughed and joked and ate, all the while forgetting about their supposed best mate who lay bed-ridden elsewhere in the castle.

"Hello, Draco," Pansy Parkinson purred as she plopped down in the empty space on the bench, right next to the blond. "A little birdie told me that Potter's sidekick and you got into quite the heated argument yesterday. How _scandalous."_

"It was nothing, Pansy," Draco snapped. He watched as Weasley leaned over, whispering in the ear of a curly-haired girl Draco didn't even recognize, and the girl giggled obnoxiously. "That redheaded, swollen-faced fuck deserved it."

"Oh, feisty, are we? You know, I find tough men to be so sexy." Pansy's fingers were toying with the hem of his sweater now, her lips inches away from his ear.

"Okay."

A few days earlier, Draco would have been thrilled to have Pansy clinging to him with such little fabric between their skins. But his mind was someplace else, no matter how desperately he tried to bring himself back to reality.

"Oh, Ron, you are so _bad_!" exclaimed Curly, in response to something Weasley had said. The redheaded boy smiled goofily and suddenly his hand disappeared under the table top, followed by a girlish squeal from his female companion.

For a reason he could not quite comprehend, Draco's entire body flushed. Anger coursed through his veins, screaming profanities across the room. Suddenly, his legs extended beneath him, bringing him to a standing position. Before he could drive his heels into the floor in protest, he found himself sauntering towards the Gryffindor table. As he approached, all eyes turned towards him with a mixed look of shock and horror, as if they knew exactly what was yet to come.

"Good evening, Weasley," Draco said, venom dripping from his tongue. "Have you attacked any more innocent girls in the past twenty-four hours? Or perhaps you're waiting a few days before you hunt out your next victim?"

Ron narrowed his eyes at the blond. "Malfoy, it's really not any of your business about what happened between Hermione and I."

"Actually, according to the bruises on my neck in the shape of your fingers, I'd disagree that in fact you made it my business. Also, if you don't mind my intrusion, I've noticed that it hasn't been so much of yours and Hermione's business at all."

"What are you on about?"

"Nothing, just that I happened to notice it's been about thirty-six hours and you have yet to visit your beloved mate. She's doing a lot better, in case you were wondering."

"You had better stay away from Hermione," Ron warned.

Draco scoffed. "That'd be hard, mate, seeing as McGonagall appointed me as her babysitter for the next week and a half, whilst she's in recovery." Draco watched Ron's face drop in disappointment as silence fell upon the entire area surrounding them.

"Why would she do that?"

"Easy answer there: because I showed up. Look, the bickering is cute and all for a certain amount of time. Let's just move on from this, we'll just go our separate ways. By that, I mean I want you to stay away from me at all times," Draco said, and then he leaned in closer to his enemy, lowering his voice. "But I swear to god, you ever touch Granger again, we're going to have a problem. I assume I make myself very clear, correct?"

With fear in his eyes, Ron whispered, "Yes."

"Oh, and Curly, you'd ought to watch out. You might be next on tour of female assault," Draco warned the girl whom sat beside Ron, before storming away from the Gryffindor table.

"Draco, mate, what was that all about?" Blaise Zabini asked, grabbing Draco's arm as he made a beeline for the exit.

"Just some Gryffindor versus Slytherin banter, that's all," Draco lied, trying to pull himself away from his friend.

"It certainly didn't look like banter from the Slytherin table. You really seemed to have gone off on that Weasley kid."

"He's a fucking tosser, Blaise. What else is there to say? Now, excuse me, I have to get going," the blond responded, yanking his arm free from Blaise's grasp.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Draco sighed, his eyes looking towards the door. "I've got something to do. I thought you knew better than to question me."

"Shit, alright, go on then," Blaise snapped, his eyes narrowing as he became clearly offended. Draco didn't care. His heart was pounding in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to be out of the hall. He turned away and headed out of the room, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. For a moment, he glanced around the corridor as he wondered where he could go to escape it all. He considered returning to the Slytherin dormitory but he knew that whether he stayed in the common room or retired to the bedchambers, he would be forced to face questions from his friends and fellow housemates. That was the one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs. With a huff, he pulled the tie over his head, shoved it into his pocket and grumpily hastened towards the end of the corridor.

When he arrived, she was asleep. Her head had created its unique imprint in the pillow beneath it and a few strands of her chestnut brown hair lay delicately over her porcelain-like face. Her body looked small and weak beneath the thin sheets of the hospital bed, leading Draco to believe that she really was as unwell as McGonagall claimed she was. Though, in her sleep she appeared peaceful, and the hallowed contours of her cheeks made her seem more attractive than unhealthy. With fair skin tucked underneath white sheets, she appeared angelic and, in a wholly unconventional way, beautiful.

Draco knew he was stupid to have shown up announced to the hospital wing. What reason did he have to be there? He hadn't brought her food or water, or books like he had the last time he had visited. Suddenly, he remembered how foolish he had looked, showing up with her ridiculous muggle books earlier. She had looked at him like he'd grown an ear out of his forehead and no matter how grateful she had made her self seem, he could sense she was slightly freaked out. _You're an idiot_ , Draco thought to himself. He started to back away from her bed, making his getaway, but not before tripping over the leg of the curtain that divided Hermione's bed from the empty one beside her. The curtain rattled slightly, producing a loud noise that caused Hermione to stir in her bed. A muffled groan came from her mouth and Draco exhaled loudly. _Now you've done it, you numpty._

Hermione's eyelids flickered for a moment before they opened slightly. She looked up at Draco with sleepy brown eyes and shifted in her bed. "Malfoy. What are you doing here? Is it morning?"

"Er, no, it's half-eight. At night," Draco responded, stepping towards her bed again.

"Well then, why are you here? Haven't you got anything better to do?" she snapped.

"I guess not, no."

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, sitting up slightly. "That came out wrong. I don't mean to be rude. I just meant that I thought you would have something more enjoyable to be doing in your spare time –"

"It's alright, Granger. I know what you meant. I just, uh…" Draco looked around the room, stalling as he tried to come up with some sort of an excuse. He could hardly think of anything that would sound believable, so he settled for the mostly true answer. "I just came to see if you needed anything. Since I'm your babysitter and all, I thought it would be necessary."

"I'm not a child. There's no need to refer to yourself as a 'babysitter'."

"You certainly act like a child most of the time."

"Sod off." The room went quiet and Draco wished he hadn't decided to come up. He stared down at his new black shoes, the ones his mum had bought him before the start of the term, and examined the recently acquired scuff on the toe of the left shoe. After a few moments of silence, he allowed himself to look up at Hermione who's own attention was focused on a loose string of the sheets that she was playing with between her fingers.

"Are you alright, Granger?" Draco asked, knowing he would ultimately regret asking. Hermione looked up at him shortly, shrugged, and then looked back to the string.

"I suppose. I'm just a bit hurt that Harry and Ron haven't come to visit me."

"Ron's a twat," Draco affirmed.

"Don't talk about Ron like that. He's my friend," Hermione snapped, shooting him a dirty look. Then her face softened and she sighed. "Or at least I thought he was. Nevertheless, Harry has no reason to have no visited. If Ron's sister could visit me, then surely his best friend could find time in his busy schedule."

"It pays a heavy price being the 'Chosen One'," Draco mocked. Hermione and him looked at each other, and Hermione's lips turned up into a semi-smile.

"Oh, of course. Usually, Ron and him are off whispering secrets to each other in secluded corners of the castle, and they often have trouble finding time to take breaks to braid each other's hair," Hermione added, giggling softly. Even Draco had to smile to himself at that. "That was mean of me, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you have a right to tease. It's mean of them not to show up," Draco told her. She stared back at him with that look she had earlier, the freaked out look, and he panicked. "What am I saying? It's not my job to deal with the problems between you and your two boyfriends."

Hermione's face showed a mixture of disappointment and anger. "Yeah, you're right. So seeing as you have no other reason to be here, you might as well fuck off then."

"Don't mind if I do," Draco seethed. He swiveled around and stormed away from her bed. "You ought to be nicer to me if you expect me to bring you meals three times a day, _Mudblood_."

"I'll just tell McGonagall that you're starving me, you unimaginable arse!" Hermione shouted, like the child Draco knew her to be. He walked out the doorway of the hospital wing, flashing to her his middle finger behind his head as he exited.

Once he was far enough away, he knelt over beside a cobblestone wall and heaved what little amount of dinner he had consumed onto the ground. Afterwards, he wiped his mouth and pressed his forehead against the cold wall before him. His body shook and his palms were clammy. _You are not becoming friendly with Hermione Granger,_ he tried to convince himself. He shook his head slightly, chuckling under his breath. How fitting was it that his body was literally beginning to reject Hermione Granger, just at the time he was required to be closest to her? He ran his fingers through his hair and stalked through the corridor, finally giving in and returning to his dormitory.

* * *

Author's Note: Guess who's back, back again. After an accidental two-month long hiatus, I finally returned to this story! Not sure if any of you guys care about it anymore, but I'm back to add a few chapters anyway, just because my creative juices are flowing. I hope this chapter makes up for my absence!


	4. Temptation

**You're just a hideaway, you're just a feeling,**

 **You let my heart escape beyond the meaning,**

 **Not even I can find a way to stop the storm,**

 **Oh, baby, it's out of my control, what's going on?**

 **Hideaway - Ben Howard**

* * *

At eight o'clock the following morning, McGonagall flew into the hospital wing and appeared at Hermione's bedside with a warm cup of tea and a bowl of hot oatmeal. She blew off Hermione's inquiries about Malfoy's absence with some lame excuse about him oversleeping, although she must have realized that after attending school together for five whole years, Hermione knew that Draco Malfoy never _ever_ overslept. In fact, he was seldom tardy for anything. It was obvious to Hermione that he hadn't shown up on account of the incident the night before, and she couldn't tell if she felt more relieved or disappointed by him not showing up. Of course, his lack of presence made things a million times less uncomfortable for both him and her. But nonetheless, he had become one of the only people who cared about her well-being – even if that was only because he was required to by McGonagall. Even though he drove her far past the point of insanity, she didn't always hate his company. It was better than being left alone in a cold, dim-lit hospital wing with only the sounds of birds chirping outside and the distant and incessant humming of Madam Pomfrey.

It should've had lightened Hermione's mood at least in the slightest that McGonagall had been accompanied by Neville and Luna that morning, but it didn't. They entered the room with their tails tucked between their legs and a look that reminded Hermione of a deer in headlights. It was almost like they didn't know how to act around Hermione. It were as if they had become strangers to one another overnight.

"You look well, Hermione," Neville informed her as he pulled up a chair beside her bed and took a seat, just a short while after McGonagall had left the room. Hermione hadn't seen a mirror in days, nor had she gone about any hygienic practices aside from brushing her teeth that morning, so she wasn't sure how accurate Neville's affirmation was.

"Neville, don't lie to her. She looks poorly, you know it," Luna pointed out, only confirming Hermione's suspicions. At least in everything that had happened, Luna had not lost her honesty.

"That is such a rude thing to say, Luna," Neville scolded the blonde-haired girl.

"She's in the hospital wing! I highly doubt she gives a damn how she looks right now. She's mostly concerned with resting herself back to health, I'm sure," Luna insisted, tucking the sheets around Hermione's body in a motherly way that made Hermione feel a bit more comfortable around her.

"Thank you both so much for coming to visit me," Hermione interrupted, to put an end to their bickering. "The only people who have come to visit me have been Ginny and you two. So I really appreciate it." Hermione made the conscious decision to exclude Draco from her list of visitors, in case it only stirred the pot and ruined their whole meeting.

"Yeah, we've heard about Ron and Harry not coming up to visit. We're really sorry, Mione. That must be so hard to deal with."

"Do you have any idea why they're avoiding seeing me?" Hermione asked hopefully, clasping her shaky hands together so that she wouldn't fidget nervously.

"They haven't given us an exact reason, to be honest. Ron seems really distraught lately. I think he might believe that he ruined your friendship. We keep insisting it wasn't him that stuffed everything up; it was the potion he took that made him do it. But he's just so upset," Neville explained.

"And what about Harry?"

"He's just busy being Harry Potter, I suppose. Quidditch is starting up and, as you know, he's team captain so he's got a lot on his hands right now," Luna chimed in.

Hermione sighed. "Right. Priorities."

"There's, er, one other thing," Neville admitted. Hermione sat up, staring at him expectantly. "There was an incident between Ron and Malfoy, last night."

Hermione's eyes darkened and her stomach dropped. "What do you mean by 'incident'?"

"Well, Ron was whispering and joking around with Lavender Brown and, all of a sudden, Malfoy came strutting over. Then he released his wrath upon Ron."

"Did Ron get hurt? Is everything okay?"

"Ron didn't get hurt, there was no physical action. But Malfoy sure did scare him shitless. He threatened Ron."

"I bet you anything Malfoy has a crush on that Lavender girl. That's what's made him so barmy lately."

Neville seemed uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah, I do think he does have a crush."

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed throughout the room. McGonagall appeared first, in the dark blue robes she had been wearing earlier that day but she now wore a large hat over her light-hair, which was twirled into a bun. Her lips were set in a straight, firm line and her eyes were narrowed, which was universally known as bad news. Shortly thereafter, Harry stalked up behind her, sheepishly, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants and his head bowed.

"Miss. Granger, Mr. Potter has come to visit you. Are you up to visiting with him or shall I send him away?" McGonagall asked.

"Since when do I have to ask my best friend if I'm allowed to see her?" Harry grunted.

"Perhaps you might consider your lack of attendance as a reason to ask permission. You have neglected to visit her in all this time, after all," McGonagall snapped. Everyone, including Harry, was stunned into silence – it was completely out of character for McGonagall to snap at anyone, let alone Harry, the golden child himself.

"It's fine, Professor. He is welcome to join us," Hermione answered, looking to Harry as she spoke.

"Actually, Luna and I ought to get going," Neville announced, shooting Luna a look.

"Why?" Luna asked, clueless. Neville nodded his head towards Harry, pointedly and Luna's eyes lit up. "Oh! Of course! I hope you feel better, Hermione."

"Yeah, I hope to see you back on your feet soon, Mione," Neville agreed. They both waved goodbye to Hermione and Harry, and then McGonagall led them both out of the room, leaving the two friends alone.

Harry looked pale in the face, like he hadn't slept in weeks, which led Hermione to believe he hadn't slept the night before due to anxiety about them meeting. He wore a thick, maroon-coloured sweater, that looked itchy on the skin and, knowing the clothes Harry wore, it probably was. Underneath, he wore a blue-grey t-shirt with a navy blue trim, which Hermione was convinced was his only shirt. He completed the outfit with a ratty, torn-up pair of black slacks, and Hermione knew by looked at him he had just thrown the outfit on in the dark without even glancing once in the mirror. Harry's dark hair was messy and his eyes were bloodshot; it was immediately to Hermione that something was wrong.

It didn't take her long to notice where Harry stood: right by the curtain divider between her bed to the next. She couldn't help but remember how Malfoy had stood there the evening before and, much to her dismay, she had difficulty seeing anything but the memory of how Malfoy looked, lurking before her in the pale moonlight shining through the window. "You can sit down, if you'd like. You don't have to cower in the corner. I don't bite," Hermione informed Harry.

Harry nodded and sat on the empty seat obediently. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I really should've come earlier."

"Why didn't you?"

"Things have been really weird downstairs, Mione. House rivalry has been brought to a whole new level. Well, at least between the Slytherins and us. Ron is losing sleep, constantly afraid that he's going to be attacked by one of Malfoy's humble servants. That, plus he's worrying about the state of your friendship. I've been trying to deal with this all on my own and it's certainly not feasible. Here I am, needing you most when you aren't here."

"Oh, gee, excuse me for being sexually assaulted by one of my best mates, then isolated as a repercussion. I would really hate to put you under any unnecessary pressure because of my hospitalization."

"C'mon, Mione, I didn't mean it like that. Please just be rational right now. You know I didn't mean it like that. Of course I'm worried about you. Everyone is worried about you, even Ron."

Hermione stared him blankly. "That's a load of shit, Harry."

"Excuse me?" he said, wide-eyed.

"Harry, neither you nor Ron have bothered to come see me. Yes, things will be rocky between Ron and I because, if you've already forgotten, he _attacked_ _me._ But yes, I also understand he was under the influence of a powerful potion. All I want is to just talk things over with him, but yet here is acting like the cowardly little shit that he is."

"Since when have you become so harsh, Hermione?"

"Since I ended up in the hospital and the two people whom were supposed to stand by me decided to just fuck off!"

"Well, we wouldn't want to interrupt any quality time between yourself and Malfoy, now would we?"

Hermione felt her cheeks flush and her body temperature begin to climb. So that was really what all this was about: Draco Malfoy. She shouldn't have been so surprised that her friends would have gone into a complete senseless frenzy about Malfoy being appointed as her caregiver.

"What do you mean?" Hermione squeaked.

"From what I've heard, the two of you are the best of mates now. He's protecting you, threatening you friends, sneaking up here for little play dates. All of this has cause a massive shit storm down in the real world, but your god damn head is up in the clouds," Harry shouted. Hermione hadn't seen him so infuriated in a long while. His face was a deep hue of purple and his fists were clenched so tight that Hermione half expected him to throw a punch at either the wall or her. He took a deep breath, running his hands through his longish brown hair. "Do you _like_ Malfoy?"

"Whatever happens in regards to Malfoy and my relationship is really none of your business. For your information, our relationship remains purely professional. McGonagall set this whole babysitting ordeal up, and neither of us is happy about it. By the way, for the record, we don't have 'play dates'. We have organized times in which he brings me food and makes sure I haven't gone stir-crazy, since none of you arseholes is responsible enough to do it while you're wanking each other off," Hermione spat, her words becoming more forceful as she spoke. "Oh, and on the subject of questions, how about this one: why is everyone in this school talking about how Ron and I fucked, when all we did was kiss a few times? Hmm?"

"It's, er, it's just gossip that some idiot third years started, I reckon. People just live to create drama, that's all –" Harry stuttered

"Bullshit!" Hermione interrupted. "You and I both know that your pervert best friend told everyone that I had sex with him!"

"Hey, don't go blaming Ron for this. You have no proof that he spread that gossip around the school, much like how there's no proof that you never had sex with Ron," Harry pointed out.

"You know what, Harry? Fuck you!" Hermione shrieked.

"Who, what's all this about?" a voice roared. Hermione jumped at the shout and peered towards the doorway to see, to her relief, a furious Malfoy, dressed in a grey jumper and slacks, charging towards them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry glared at him with narrowed eyes.

"I could ask you the same question, Potter," Malfoy sneered. Then he turned to Hermione, with a gentler voice. "Is he bothering you?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, staring at the ground.

"Alright, Potter, that'd be your cue to leave. I'd recommend doing it quickly unless, of course, you'd prefer me to give you the same treatment I gave your friend, Weasley," Malfoy growled at the dark-haired boy.

"Gee, Hermione's hero came around to save the day, once again," Harry bit back, but Hermione could sense a bit of fear in him. Nonetheless, he stood up, staring at Hermione with an angry yet apologetic look. Once he was gone, Hermione felt her shoulders slump as a tear threatened to pour over her lower lashes. She bent her head forward, letting the tear slip, as she tried to hide it from Malfoy. The tear fell onto her lap in a small, circular blob, staining the sheets where it landed. More tears began to flow freely and Hermione prayed that Malfoy wouldn't notice or at least have the decency to not mention it if he did.

"Granger, are you crying?" he asked after a few short moments, not to Hermione's surprise.

"No," she sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Suddenly, a pale hand caught her chin and gently tilted her face upwards. Malfoy's face was inches away from hers and he inspected her face as her tears betrayed her and spilled down her cheeks embarrassingly.

"Yes, you are. What did that fucking asshole say to you?" Malfoy snapped.

"I'm ruining everything for all my friends. I've started a war between the houses and I'm making my friends stress because apparently by me being in the hospital, they're the ones suffering," Hermione sobbed, sniffling. "And everyone thinks I'm a whore!"

"What, why?"

"Because Ron told everyone I slept with him this summer, and none of my friends are defending me!"

"Oh," Malfoy whispered. She knew that he had heard the rumors too, considering what he had gotten that poor first year to ask her. If she hadn't been so emotional, she would have brought up his involvement in the drama, but she didn't. Malfoy sighed and pulled his jumper sleeve over his hand. "Here, let me fix this." He wiped her face softly, removing the tears that were beginning to dry her skin. At every stroke that he caressed her cheek with his shirtsleeve, Hermione became increasingly aware of their current closeness in proximity, and how she could smell the lingering scent of hot cocoa on his breath. She was immediately surprised, as she had never pinned Draco Malfoy to be the sort to drink hot cocoa on his spare time.

"Thank you," she breathed, shakily. He halted his stroking motion, as if he had just come out from a dazed state, but his hand remained still on her face as he gazed deeply at her with his icy blue eyes. For a brief moment, Hermione suspected he was about to say something. She found herself desperate to know those words trapped beneath his teeth, and she prepared herself to cling to them as if they were all that kept her breathing. Suddenly, his lips clamped together and he jerked his hand away from her as if her skin had electrocuted him.

"It's my job to take care of you, Granger, remember?"

"Oh, right," Hermione replied, trying to mask her disappointment.

 _Taking care of you is my job,_ Draco thought as he watched intently the dark-haired girl in front of him, who was already looking away from him, staring out the window behind her bed. _Always has been, always will be._


	5. Epoch

_December 26_ _th_ _, 1994_

 _Just past midnight_

 _The Astronomy Tower_

The moment Draco saw her, all flowy periwinkle material and glowing skin, standing beside Krum like a gleaming, new Quidditch trophy, he knew there was so much more to Hermione Granger than she let on. Deep inside, perhaps she wasn't all brains and books and brilliant ideas. Perhaps she was just as much of a girl as Pansy Parkinson, who clung onto Draco's arm defensively as they paraded past Hermione.

"What happened to _her_?" Pansy whisper-snarled. She was so clearly jealous that Draco had to clear his throat to stop himself from chuckling.

"I have no idea," Draco shrugged, earning a confused look from Pansy. Usually, he would have some vicious comment to make about the typically bushy-haired girl. But tonight, he had nothing. He was too stunned to find an insult to throw at her. She sure did look nice. Well, more than nice. Beautiful, he supposed, if you looked at her in the right lighting.

The whole night, all eyes were on Hermione, a mix of admiration and envy. Though he would never admit it, Draco's eyes were on her as well, for more of the evening than he wished to admit. Every once in awhile, his glance would stray from Pansy, towards the Gryffindor princess, whose periwinkle dress robes shone beneath the lights of the Great Hall as she spun across the dance floor in step with Krum. Draco often compared her mentally to Pansy, wishing Pansy hadn't worn the ugly dress she had chosen or that she would quit staring at Hermione as well, making her spite and jealousy so obvious.

It wasn't long into the evening until an argument ignited between Hermione and Ron. As if they couldn't find the decency between them to wait until afterwards to fight, in consideration of everyone else. Draco watched them from the dance floor where he pretended to have a good time with his raven-haired partner. Hermione stormed away, just as she usually did, and Ron rolled his eyes in frustration. Just like usual, Harry appeared to not get involved but Draco observed that he stayed glued to Ron's side nonetheless.

"Oh, Ron. He is such a useless git! He absolutely _thrives_ on ruining my good moods, doesn't he?" Draco overheard Hermione shout over the music as he walked towards the refreshments table, getting punch for himself and – unfortunately – Pansy, who clearly didn't know how to get her own glass. Draco followed the sound of her voice and found the Gryffindor girl, along with the youngest spawn of the Weasley clan, cowering in a corner.

"I know he is, I've lived with him my whole life," Ginny Weasley agreed, straightening out her dress and glancing towards the dance floor as if yearning to go out there and start dancing.

"Why can't he just be happy for me? Why does he have to give me such a hard time?" Hermione complained, her lower lip jutting out as she pouted like a child. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed, heading straight to the punch bowl.

"You know," he said, loud enough for the two girls to hear him. He didn't look at them, but he could tell they were listening by the way they silenced their conversation. "This isn't the time nor place to whine incessantly about your boyfriend, Granger. It's a party, after all."

"Oh, and what do you know about parties, Malfoy? You look like you're attending a funeral, not a ball," Hermione snapped. Draco looked up at her, trying not to seem at all impressed with how quickly she had produced a comeback – which he was.

"At least I'm not crying about Weasel and ruining everyone else's night," Draco responded. She glared at him coldly and stormed away, as Ginny followed her, sticking her tongue out at Draco as she passed. He laughed and shook his head at their reactions, taking a sip of the punch. The night was drawing to a close as he handed the second cup of punch to Pansy, and the Weird Sisters were already introducing their final song.

"Come dance with me," Pansy ordered Draco as they started playing an upbeat tune that sent the students into a frenzy of excitement.

"No, I think I'm going to get going," Draco announced, watching Hermione saying goodbye to Krum and then exiting the room alone. "I'm starting to get a headache from all this music."

Pansy pouted, but then perked up, leaning against him. "Maybe I'll join you. We can find an empty corridor, perhaps the one we were in the other day…" she suggested. Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes and he pulled back, scratching the back of his neck.

"Er, sorry, I'm really feeling poorly. It might be contagious. I wouldn't to get you ill too if I'm coming down with something," he insisted. Pansy finally agreed, sulking as she made her way onto the dance floor. Though, Draco noticed, it only took her a few moments to brighten up as a large, strong male student of Durmstrang came towards her, asking her to dance with him.

It wasn't like he minded what Pansy did. He was on a mission, with intentions of seeking out Hermione and taunting her for her overnight makeover. He had been stunned to silence as she had arrived that evening, and over the course of the night he had mentally prepared a few nasty things to say to her. If he couldn't have a good night, neither could she.

Once he got to the entrance hall, he saw a flash of lavender-blue dress disappear down a dim-lit corridor. Entranced, Draco followed behind hurriedly, turning into the corridor as well. Down the hallway, he saw Hermione rushing towards the staircase to the Astronomy Tower. _Huh, fancy that,_ Draco thought smugly. _Granger is now finding solace in my own claimed retreat. Not for long._

As he climbed each step slowly, he became more aware of Hermione's muffled sobs that echoed out throughout the howled skeleton of the staircase that led up to the summit where she had gone. Preparing himself for their encounter, he straightened his dress robes and was about to call out to her as he reached the last few steps, but he was interrupted.

"What are you doing up here, all alone?" a male voice, with an American accent, spoke out. Surprised to hear a male – an American one, at that – Draco stopped in his tracks, waiting for a response.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Hermione asked, sniffling loudly.

"I'm a student from Durmstrang. I was just up here, getting some air, and I heard you crying. So I thought I might ask you if you're alright," the boy responded.

"I'm fine," Hermione snapped. Draco took another step up the staircase, getting a good but hidden look to the Hermione and the stranger. There was a moment of silence before she asked, "If you're from Durmstrang, then why are you American?"

The boy, with dark hair and dark eyes, stepped forward, laughing quietly. "You're observant. I was born in America, but I was five years old when my parents decided to move to Norway. So, I ended up at Durmstrang," he explained. "They're wizards, too."

"Oh," Hermione replied, obviously disinterested.

The boy took another step, moving even closer to her. "I have to say, you are a gorgeous creature. I saw you with Viktor tonight and I knew you deserved someone better than him. Someone, perhaps, like me?"

"I'm really flattered, but I've just had a pretty terrible end to my night and I really should get going," Hermione informed him, seeming uncomfortable. The boy was inches away from her suddenly, his hand grazing her hip softly.

"Don't go. Not yet. Let's just have a moment together," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"Please, stop," she begged, trying to squirm away. He gripped her sides and yanked him towards her, leaning towards her for a kiss. "Stop it, right now!"

Draco ran up the last few steps and stormed up to the Durmstrang boy. He grabbed onto the back of his robes and jolted him backwards, angrily. "Get the fuck off of her!"

"Whoa, man, I'm just trying to get to know your friend," the boy insisted, defensively. Hermione looked pale and terrified.

"Get out of here, now. If you ever touch another girl from my school like that, I will make sure you are sent back to wherever the fuck you came from," Draco shouted at him, his blood pounding in his ears. The boy stared back at him, pretending not to care, but eventually made his way towards the stairs, leaving them behind.

"Thank you for helping me," Hermione said tonelessly, her face as hard as stone. She readjusted her dress robes and raised her chin, calmly. "Don't ever speak of this again. Not to anyone."

"Alright," Draco agreed. She huffed and stormed past him, towards the staircase. Once she was downstairs, he heard her begin sobbing again as her footsteps quickened and she raced away.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Perhaps not my greatest chapter yet, but here's a quick little backstory to further on what Draco thought at the end of the previous chapter. Enjoy!


	6. Cromulent

**"Thought of you as my mountain top,**

 **Thought of you as my peak,**

 **Thought of you as everything,**

 **I've had but couldn't keep"**

Pale Blue Eyes - Velvet Underground

* * *

Every day leading up to the weekend, Malfoy visited Hermione for each meal without arriving more than a minute late. He arrived with hot, delicious meals that Hermione was almost certain he brought directly from the kitchen. Some days they hardly spoke to each other; others, when Malfoy was in a decent mood, they forced small conversation, mostly about the growing stack of books on Hermione's bedside.

"Bloody hell, Granger. Where are all of these books coming from, anyhow?" Malfoy had asked her one day when their conversation about Pumpkin Juice had died out. Hermione glanced towards her pile and smiled fondly.

"Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, has been dropping them off during the night. At first, I thought that I was going mad up in this room, because every day there would be a book or two that I didn't recognize from the day before," Hermione laughed. "But then, I guess two days or so ago, I noticed a ripped off piece of parchment peeking out from the cover of one book. Ginny wrote me a little note, explaining what she'd done."

"Wow," Malfoy said.

"What's 'wow'?"

"It's just that it was a nice thing for her to do. I didn't know that a Weasley could have the emotional capacity to do something nice like that."

"Ha, funny."

Malfoy began examining the titles, noticing that there was an almost equal mix of both Muggle and Magical books. Some were educational, which was not surprising, while others seemed fictitious. On the top of the pile was a ratty book that looked like it had to be as old as some of the textbooks she had borrowed from the library. He picked it up, eyeing the cover, which featured a young-looking couple embracing one another lovingly. The picture seemed like some kind of a painting from the times of the Renaissance – they were certainly dressed like it.

"What's this one?" Malfoy asked, lifting the book up and glancing towards Hermione.

"Oh, that would be Romeo and Juliet. It's a play by William Shakespeare. He has been noted by many as the greatest playwright and storyteller of all time."

"Pft, he must not be so fantastic. I haven't heard of him once," Malfoy scoffed.

"He's a Muggle writer, Malfoy," Hermione responded.

"Ah, well, no wonder they think he's the greatest storyteller of all time – they just don't know any real writers to compare him with," Malfoy said, smugly. Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring his remark, as Malfoy continued to stare at the book in his hand. "Alright, don't keep me waiting. What's it about?"

Taken aback, Hermione stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher if he were joking or not. "Er, okay, it's set in Verona about 400 years ago. Basically, it's about the son and daughter of two enemy families, and they fall in love secretly despite what may happen to them if their parents find out. In the end, Romeo believes Juliet is dead so he kills himself and then Juliet, who isn't actually dead, kills herself because she can't bare to live without him."

"Serves them right," Malfoy snapped. Hermione frowned at him, perturbed.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they defied their parents. They each fraternized with their families' enemies," Malfoy explained, pulling a face. "It's disgusting."

Hermione nodded her head, beginning to understand. "I see. You're relating it to blood-status, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. It's like a Pureblood falling in love with a filthy Mudblood –"

"Watch your mouth, Malfoy."

"Fine, a _Muggle-born_. Nonetheless, it's absolutely horrifying. My father would have my head if I were that Romeo lad."

"Good job you aren't falling in love with any Muggle-born any time soon."

Malfoy stared at the girl, as if she had just caught him red-handed, and his cheeks went pink. "Yeah, thank God for that," he mumbled, annoyed.

The two fell into silence, avoiding each other's eyes as they sat uncomfortably under the weight of their discussion.

"But there's something I need you to clarify," Malfoy insisted.

"Alright, I'll give it a go."

"Why did Romeo believe her to be dead anyhow?"

"Well, she acquired a potion – think of it as a magic potion, I suppose – and it was meant to put her in a coma, that would make others believe she were dead, for forty-two hours. Her plan was to send a messenger to Romeo to inform him of the plan, and then once she awoke, they would run off together. But Romeo never got the message, so he thought she was truly dead, and once he saw her lying there he decided there was no point to living. So he offed himself, too."

Malfoy stared at her, nodding understandingly. "A fatal love story."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed.

"Alright, that's enough of talking. You look exhausted - you need a rest. Why don't you sleep for a few hours while I go back to my dorm to finish some coursework, and I will wake you when I come back with dinner?" Malfoy suggested, his voice soft and gentle, as he coaxed her into lying down.

"I guess you're right, I do need some rest," Hermione whispered as her eyes began to flutter shut. She settled into the most comfortable lying position and then yanked the blanket over her body, up to her chin.

Malfoy stood up, staring down at her and Hermione swore she saw him reach his hand forward ever so slightly but then draw it back immediately. "Er, sleep well, Granger." With that, her eyes shut at once and she fell into the darkness of sleep.

When she awoke once about an hour later, she saw that Malfoy was gone and her copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ was missing.


End file.
